As Your Friend
by BMRH
Summary: When Molly Hooper decided to travel with her boyfriend to New York, she didn't expect a not so unfamiliar stranger to seek her up. As he falls asleep in her hotel room, Molly reflects on her being, the Fall and her unrequited love for the world's only consulting detective. Set between series two and three when Sherlock dismanteled Moriarty's network. Rate and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

Another story that I have been writing on my mobile phone for the last months. I have had a Sherlock relapse for some weeks now and this is sort of the result. Because it's not completely finished yet, I'm going to publish it in smaller chapters. I hope the Molly and Sherlock stay in character. The story can be read as Sherlolly but the intention was to stay as close to the series relationship as possible. I wanted to explore Molly's thoughts about Sherlock and her surroundings. Rated T+ to M for later chapters, just in case. Spoilers for _The Empty Hearse_ because I mention Tom. Obviously spoilers for the events of _The Reichenbach Fall_.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A not so strange meeting...**

The rain began to intensify as Molly Hooper crossed the last road that led up to the Gotham hotel on 46th street. She smiled brightly to herself. The afternoon and early evening had been absolutely wonderful. She had never been in New York before and what could possibly be better than doing the city with someone special? Very special indeed.

She had been seeing Tom for about two months now. He was working as an underground station guard in central London right now but he had been doing a lot of different jobs since he came home after a worldwide travel streak. Molly found him good looking, quite much actually and he was one of nicest and most humble persons she had ever met. They met through friends in London but soon she came to know that he actually had friends all over the world. This trip to New York he had planned for a long time but in the last minute, he had offered her to go with him. Molly had hesitated at first. She wasn't used to going abroad and also, she wasn't sure if she was going to be... _needed_... at home.

"Come on!" Tom had insisted. "You said you had holidays you could use? I want you to meet all my friends so I can show them how proud I am of you. I think London can make it without you for one week." Molly had looked at the _one_ microscope in the lab, thinking that she was not so sure...

But she couldn't deny now that it had been a great idea. Tom's American friends were wonderful and had greeted her with open arms. For once, she didn't feel like the invisible person in the room but actually the focus of everybody's attention. At first it was kind of awkward, but now it felt as a nice change and she really liked it.

Molly flashed another bright smile at the hotel receptionist before going up the elevator to the 8th floor. Tom had wanted to stay at the pub with his friends for another two hours or so and she was fine with it. Well, company had been nice but she could understand him. He hadn't been seeing them in more than a year. One year, one month and 17 days to be exactly. She remembered this because he had said he had gone home last time on the 15th of June, a date which held a very special memory for her...

Molly opened the hotel room door with her key card and went in. The room was pitch black except for the street lights shining through the curtains while the rain was pattering against the windows who covered the room's left wall. She closed the door behind her and was just about to put the light on when she heard a sharp sound from the windows. She instantly stopped in her movements and it felt like her heart skipped a beat. The scared woman looked at the curtains in the far end of the room.

"Who's there?!" she cried and wished that she hadn't let Tom stay with his friends at the pub. She got no response. Then the cracking sound was heard again and a dark silhouette emerged from the floor. Molly cringed to the door behind her and stared at it with terrified eyes. She was about to scream and run out of the room when the silhouette suddenly began to speak.

"Everything looks more terrifying in the darkness. A human's mind fears what it can't see but sometimes the dangers are even more terrifying in the light. Then you wished that they had stayed in the dark, wouldn't you?"

Molly drew after her breath because she recognized the voice immediately! In fact she thought she could recognize it in whatever situation possible because it could only belong to one person. She turned on the lights in the room and to her absolute amaze, Sherlock Holmes stood there by the curtains...

* * *

 **A/N** To be continued soon...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

Here is chapter 2. Minor spoilers for _The Reichenbach Fall_ and some mentions of drug use.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Blood down the forehead**

Molly stared at the man by the windows in disbelief and put one of her hands over her mouth.

"Oh my God, Sherlock!" she cried and almost ran forward to him. She was just about to pull him into an embrace when she remembered who he was and stopped herself. It was so hard not to do it because it had been so long since she saw him. Even though she had met Tom and her life was starting to take a form that others would call "normal", she often thought about the detective. She wondered where he was and even more often if he was safe. Molly hadn't seen him since he left London after that day on the roof when he died in everybody else's eyes.

Her first thought though was that he looked really haggard. He wore a white shirt that was really dirty under a black skin jacket. His black trousers also looked really dirty and wet from the rain. His hair was a quite a bit longer than usual and the damp black curls was a mess, almost hanging in his eyes. For once, he looked tired. It even seemed like he had problems keeping his eyes open and they didn't contain the fire that Molly was used to see. She also noticed that the side of his forehead had the tone of dark red.

Molly stretched a hand up to the man's face to brush the curls away but with a sharp movement, Sherlock grabbed her wrist.

"Don't!" he snapped. Suddenly he was full of energy again and his eyes burned as he stared her down. Molly recoiled, scared by his suddenly aggressive attitude towards her but the next moment she suddenly remembered that she wasn't that girl anymore, the girl that Sherlock Holmes could make into a mouse. She was a grown woman, independent and confident and if something needed to be done she would not hesitate.

Molly jerked her hand out of Sherlock's grip and the movement surprised him.

"Stop it!" she snapped back at him. "What are you doing here?!".

She was about to put _And how did you find me?_ on the question but realized that this was Sherlock Holmes and he would find anyone in the world if he wanted to. And if he was not able by himself, Mycroft could certainly pull it off for him.

The man looked stunned at first by her sudden angry comeback but the next second it seemed like his eyes tried to burn her down violently. His pupils are not abnormally dilated, Molly thought while she returned his gaze. At least he was not on drugs. The two stared at each other for a moment that felt like an age. Then Sherlock's eyes suddenly softened together with his whole posture. It almost looked like he didn't have the energy to keep it up. He sighed deeply, as in defeat.

"I need... I really need somewhere to sleep tonight."

Molly stared at him in disbelief. Had Sherlock Holmes just stuttered on his words? She didn't like it. It was so unlike him to sound insecure, lost and even degraded and she recognized the signs. It was his sign of desperation and Molly didn't want to think about what might have happened to make him like that. She regretted immediately that she had snapped back at him. She took a deep breath and went back to her sweet and calm self. "Okay, but please Sherlock, may I have a look at this first?"

"Don't bother. I'm fine." he answered her in a more calm voice now. A very tired voice but that sounded more like him at least. She wasn't going to give up so easy though.

"Please?"

Sherlock glared at her for a moment. He looked really suspicious but then he sighed deep again. She took it as a confirmation and stretched her hand up to his forehead once again, slower, more careful this time, to brush the messy curls away. The man closed his eyes and tensed slightly when she touched him.

The curls concealed a gash in his head and a larger amount of dried blood which had been oozing down his cheek on the right side of his face. From the looks of it, he had acquired the gash about six hours ago. It wasn't bleeding that much now but it was dirty from sweat and dust and needed to be cleaned. It wouldn't need stitches though which was very fortunate. It was the second time she had seen him with blood on his face but there was one big difference now. This time, the wound was real.

"I will get some water and soft paper from the bathroom. I think we need to clean this a bit. Is that okay?" Molly said, thinking that she had to work with what she had available.

Sherlock looked the other way from her. "Well, I have obviously no choice.".

When Molly returned with the wet paper, he was already sitting on the bed. She carefully removed the curls once again and let the paper touch the wound. It was colored red immediately.

Sherlock said nothing. He just sat there with closed eyes and an expressionless face. Molly hadn't really expected him to talk either. She knew how he hated small talk while she herself hated embarrassing silences. At least, he let her clean the wound and wipe the dried blood off his skin.

Molly didn't want to ask what had happened. First of all because she thought she knew half of the story already. The pathologist saw that the gash had been caused by a hard and sharp object, like a crowbar or similar. Judging from the angle of the gash, it had hitted him from above. _Who_ had hurt him was another question. A gangster boss? One of Moriarty's underlings? In fact she didn't want to know and she could bet she wouldn't get an answer if she asked him.

"Umm... You said you needed somewhere to sleep?" Molly finally said when she had collected enough courage to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Yes."

"When was the last time you slept?"

Sherlock fell silent for a moment before he answered. "Two days... Or three, maybe four, not important. This part of the network took some more time than expected. There were some... unforeseen events."

Molly answered with a silence of her own. She knew John often talked about Sherlock's crazy eating and sleeping habits during cases but this was just... madness! But maybe forcing it into his face would not solve anything right now because things were not like usual. The important thing was that he had come to her and she wanted to continue to be his support, all the way through this. If there was anything he needed, _anything at all_ , she had promised him. Still it didn't make sense that he would come here when Mycroft's resources were just a call away.

"You can stay here tonight but I'm just wondering, couldn't your brother have gotten you somewhere to stay?".

"Certainly, if I had contacted him."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because I trust you and it was nice seeing a familiar face."

Molly stopped in her movements for a moment.

 _I trust you. I have always trusted you._

Ever since that evening when he had said that he had always trusted her, something had changed. For the first time she felt like he treated her as his equal. No charming compliments, no false smiles. He looked at her with respect and that was something else. Something more. But did he trust her more than his brother? It didn't make sense! Well, it could have something to do with the fact that little brother wasn't happy, not happy at all that big brother monitored his every step. Asking Mycroft for help was possibly an even bigger defeat than death itself, Molly could imagine. And maybe it was something else? A familiar face, he had said. Was she reminding him of London and everything there? Maybe of something he could call _home_?

* * *

 **A/N**

 **To be continued...**

I have been doing some research on Molly's official blog. The "mouse" reference is from there. It will be more clear later in the fic. So... What do you think this far? I promise you, it will get better and better!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

Here is the third chapter. A bit shorter than the last one but a bit more dialouge. No obvious spoilers that haven't been mentioned before.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: The meaning of looking sad**

"You're meeting someone." Sherlock suddenly said.

"What?"

"You're meeting someone, probably tall, judging from the way you're tilting your neck. Sometimes you're tilting it a bit too much forward, probably because it's aching. The opposite direction is therefore more usual. Conclusion: You're meeting someone tall."

Molly was taken by absolute surprise. "But we have just met!"

"So you _are_ meeting someone. And it was not a hard deduction to make. I observe how you look right now. You're stretching yourself and your shoulders are back. You have done it since you entered the room. A sign of improved self-confidence, most likely, quite certainly so, when thinking about the way you snapped back at me earlier. That kind of confidence is not gained by a good day at work or a holiday. That confidence comes from passing a very personally important goal. Taking that yours is love, it was tediously simple. Improved confidence, you're meeting someone."

She didn't have a chance to say anything before he continued.

"That's also how I know that it's not because I'm here."

Molly stiffened. Suddenly it felt like a lump of anxiety was growing in her stomach, faster and faster. Okay, it was no secret that in the "past", she had had feelings, strong feelings for Sherlock Holmes but now when he actually mentioned it she felt like she was going to panic. Her mind raced with thoughts like _HE KNOWS!_ mixed with _Why is this happening right now?!._ Molly tried to continue the cleaning of the wound with steady hands but the nervousness started to take the upper hand. She tried to find her voice but failed. Instead the tired detective continued and answered the unsaid follow-up question in a most unexpected way.

"When it's me, you don't look confident. You look sad."

As quickly as the anxiety had begun, as quickly it disappeared. Molly stopped in her movements and looked down at Sherlock with confused eyes. His face continued to betray not the slightest of emotion. She wanted to say something, mostly tell him that he was wrong but figured that it would be a stupid idea. Was he even wrong? Sherlock Holmes was many things but he was rarely wrong.

"Please, stop looking at me like you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's really annoying." The detective said after somehow noticing her struggle within, even though he hadn't opened his eyes even the slightest. Molly Hooper sank her head and an answer remained unsaid.

Just one moment later, her mobile phone buzzed on the nightstand. She dried off some remaining water from Sherlock's forehead and went to fetch it. It was Tom.

 **We've been invited for drinks down in the hotel restaurant by Aaron and Kelly. Thought you were interested. On my way up to you, I'll be there in a minute or so / Tom**

Molly stared at the screen with terrified eyes. "No, no, no..." _NO!_  
With shaky fingers, she dialed Tom's number as fast as she could and pressed call. He answered within one ring.

"Hi, I..."

"Hi, wait downstairs in the lobby! I will be there in a couple of minutes."

"Molly, what is it? You sound so stressed."

"Well, I just wasn't ready to meet people but I am in a few minutes so just wait downstairs."

"It's no rush. I'll..."

"Please Tom, I will be there in a moment."

"Eh... Okay... If you say so. Can't wait to see you."

"No, me neither, bye."

Molly hung up on the phone and sighed deeply. A catastrophe had been dodged but now new problems had arisen. She would have to go down and socialize and she gladly would if the situation had been any different but right now it meant leaving Sherlock alone. It didn't feel like a good idea and it probably wasn't. An age passed, or it felt like so, as the stressed woman decided what to do. In the end, Molly decided that only one option was unavoidable if she didn't want to make Tom suspicious.

"Sherlock, I have to meet my friends in the restaurant but you can do whatever you want. Order some food if you want to, it's fine, really, I'll pay. And if you want..."

She was interrupted by the detective who had slipped down from the bed and now sat on the floor, his legs crossed and his head hanging from his shoulders. He ruffled his hair in a frustrated fashion.

"I just need to think right now."

Molly fell quiet. He looked so tired but apparently it was no use to say anything. Instead she changed her earrings, pulled the scrunchie that held her ponytail out of her hair and let it down over her shoulders. She decided that the green dress she was wearing was pretty enough for the occasion. Changing it didn't really feel like an option due to the circumstances. Molly was about to open the door to the corridor when she hesitated with her hand on the handle. _Not that girl! Not anymore!_ She shook her head and turned around again.

"Sherlock..." No answer.

"Sherlock, maybe you should sleep like you said?" Again no answer.

"Sherlock, just..."

"I'm fine." The detective said short.

"No, you're obviously not!" Molly blurted out before silence entered the room once again. Sherlock didn't move an inch and Molly just sighed deeply. "Well, just think about it, okay? And... Take your time. Please?"

When she wasn't answered this time either, Molly opened the door to the corridor and went for the elevators. As the electronic doors closed, a growing lump in her stomach began to make her regret her decision.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **To be continued... Obviously!**

The hardest thing about writing the Sherlock character is his deductions, I think. I hope the deduction of Molly felt believable. Also, it's possible that Sherlock knew about Tom, or at least that Molly had a relationship before he returned to London.

I think Sherlock was very much aware of how Molly felt about him after series 2 and that it was actually hurting her. What are your thoughts about this? Rate and Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

What you have been waiting for I think. I thought about splitting this chapter into two chapters but I think it works better this way. A lot of spoilers for _The Reichenbach Fall_ and some for _A Scandal in Belgravia_. Enjoy!

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 **Chapter 4: Love** _ **is**_ **a dangerous disadvantage**

Molly hurried up from the restaurant and the lump in her stomach said that no, it had not, definitely _NOT_ been a good idea to leave Sherlock Holmes alone at her hotel room. The evening had continued several hours into the night, much more than she had expected and now it was several hours since she had left the room. He would be gone by now, she was absolutely sure. That was who he was! He never listened to his body, only his mind and his mind always told him he was fine while his body obviously was in need of rest! Would he really be safe without that rest? She wasn't sure and it worried her to no end.

Molly ran through the corridor to her room. At least she had gotten Tom to stay at Aaron and Kelly's apartment. She had said she didn't feel well and Tom hated to be sick. She felt bad at first for lying to him but it was a white lie to keep them both safe, she told herself. She didn't want him involved in this for anything in the world.

Suddenly she was by the door and the woman took a deep breath before she opened it. The room was dark and Molly sighed deeply. _He's gone! Of course! How could you be so stupid? You moron!_ she thought accusingly. But then she heard something that sounded like calm breaths. She rushed forward to the bed and, to her absolute relief and amaze, there he was... sleeping.

Molly walked quietly around to the left side of the bed. She had never seen him sleep before. It was a strange sight. Fascinating of course but mostly strange. Her gaze studied him like it used to study a dead body on a slab. She instantly regretted even thinking about such a parallel.

Sherlock wore nothing on his torso but he had kept his trousers on as far as she could see. His body was twisted in the white bed sheet in a position that almost made him sleep on his stomach. His face was mashed up against the pillows and his curls were a mess just as before. She noticed though that they looked a bit shorter now, more like their usual length and he was clean shaved. As always he looked very pale, like he hadn't been in sunlight for centuries. Like that wasn't enough, the shine from the strong street lights outside made him look even paler. But he seemed to be soundly asleep and very calm unlike earlier this night. The features of his face were also more relaxed than she had ever seen them. It made him look younger, more innocent, more... human. Definitely not like Sherlock Holmes, but still beautiful, yes so very, very... beautiful.

 _Stop it!_ Molly thought. _You are not that girl anymore! The infatuation you had for him was stupid, childish and based on nothing but him flirting with you to get stuff that he wanted!_ This mantra had become a more regular procedure in the months that followed the Fall. She was trying to forget, trying to erase these feelings that her unrequited love for Sherlock Holmes created. First of all, because she knew how they could change her judgement and if she was going to help him in the best way that she could, she had to be focused on the task ahead. "Great..." Molly whispered sarcastically as she processed the words she just had thought. "I'm turning into Sherlock myself!"

Second, because she knew now that those feelings were still hurting her. They had begun to fade but it was always ups and downs. Oh, how jealous she had been when he obviously had seen that woman's naked body before. But she had started to actually notice when Sherlock was a complete dickhead to her. Flirting with her to get her to go around the rules, just to drop the act the moment he had gotten what he wanted. And sometimes he was just mean, like at the Christmas party.

The night that he asked her for help in the morgue, the night before his suicide, was very different though. That night he was genuine. She had seen it. Because she was often the one in the background, the one that nobody cared what she saw or didn't see, she had become a great judge of character. She saw in Sherlock's expression that something was very wrong in the days before the Fall and for once she had the courage to tell him. And that very night, she had looked into his eyes and... yes, he looked nervous and desperate, just like he had done this evening.  
Mostly he looked sad. After Sherlock had told her about his and his brother's plan and what could possibly be the outcome, she could tell why. He didn't really want to leave London and Baker Street. He didn't want to leave John.

Molly went to a chair behind her and pulled it to the side of the bed. Then she sat down and just continued to look at him. Sometimes it didn't feel so much like it, but he had changed so much since she had met him four years ago. Still brilliant, still a dick in some ways and still gorgeous but different - and the reason was John Watson. Sherlock didn't have friends, or even a friend, before John. He had always said that he didn't have a heart, mostly because that's what everybody else told him. Molly was sure now that this was not true. He definitely had a heart and even a conscience sometimes. This had been most clear during those days one year ago.

The events of the Fall had not happened all accordingly to plan. Not even Sherlock had predicted that Jim Moriarty would kill himself just in order to beat him. It was the last nail in the coffin, quite literally. Sherlock _had_ to "die". The first day after his apparent suicide, Sherlock hadn't spoken a single word. It was not unusual that he didn't talk for a long while when he was on a case but this time it was very different. He just sat there on the floor in Molly's bedroom (yes, the bedroom...) and stared into the wall. Not even Mycroft could come through to him and he even threatened that he would make sure that Sherlock would never see Baker Street again if he didn't snap out of it right now! If looks could kill, the one that the detective placed on his older brother would have wiped out the whole street.

"You should have seen Greg when he learned about your death." Molly whispered in the darkness to the sleeping man in the bed. "He was a mess. He sat on the floor and cried, Sherlock. I had to comfort him and it was one of the hardest things I have ever done. When I showed him, Anderson and Sergeant Donovan your body he couldn't look at it. He went outside to the corridor and screamed and hit the walls."

Molly often thought about those first days after Sherlock's death and how difficult they had been. Mrs Hudson was absolutely devastated. She had cried hysterically in John's arms at the morgue when she got the news. Afterwards, Molly couldn't stop thinking that the old woman acted like she had lost a son. Mrs Hudson had been one of the few who refused to look at the body. "It's not him anymore. Why should I look?" she had said. And yes, Greg had been a true mess. He had screamed at the sergeant and the forensic that _THEY_ did this and that they could go to hell! The DI had gotten fired in the days that followed. The scandal about Sherlock and all the cases had just been too much. He wasn't off the position for very long though. Molly could guess that Mycroft probably had lifted a finger and fixed it.

And John... Oh God... He said nothing but his eyes were empty. He had looked like a dead man walking. He which had already seen so much and lost so much. Greg once told her about what he knew about John's life before Sherlock and how it was now. " _I met him yesterday. He's still angry with me. He told me he has nightmares again. Said that 'Every night I watch my best friend take his own life. I see his smashed skull on the pavement. I see the blood covering his face. And when I see his open hollow eyes, I wake up and I scream at the top of my lungs! And all I wonder is "Why?!"' John is not okay, Molly. I fear that he might do something much unconsidered_." Molly had never felt so guilty in her life as that day when DI Lestrade told her about Dr Watson's grief.

John had continued to look like a walking dead for months to follow until very recently. Judging from the new blog commentaries, he had met someone and Molly couldn't be happier for him. He had moved out of Baker Street the weeks that followed Sherlock's suicide. She couldn't really blame him. Too many memories. Too much loss. She felt so sorry for the man. Both him and his dead best friend.

Molly leaned to the side of the bed and reached forward to Sherlock's face. She hesitated one, two, three times before she collected her courage and let her fingers touch his skin while she brushed away a pair of messy curls from his face. He stirred and moved slightly but continued to be soundly asleep to Molly's relief. The gash had stopped bleeding completely now and it looked really good.

"But you couldn't trick them all you know." she continued. "You must have seen it yourself? It's everywhere, especially in London and I have seen it here too. It has been seen in China and Brazil and even India. "Believe in Sherlock Holmes", "Moriarty was real", "I fight John Watson's war". People still believe, Sherlock, because now the trials about clearing your name have begun."

It was all insane really. People were demonstrating outside the court, screaming " _Believe in Sherlock Holmes!_ " and all the other slogans that the movement had created. It touched Molly's heart like nothing else to see those people fighting for him and John. She smiled to herself. If all those people only knew that she was sitting here at a hotel room in New York City and watched a most alive Sherlock Holmes sleep in her bed while she brushed messy curls from his face? His beautiful face... which almost seemed to be even more beautiful, if that was even possible, when he slept.

Molly rolled her eyes and sighed. It was obviously no use to try to not think about it. He was a good looking man, she couldn't deny that. And yes, that was an understatement. He was the definition of perfection! That's what drew her in in the first place, the very first time they met. Like a mal to a flame...  
Molly had worked at Bart's for a couple of months then and she was good at it. Really good. She was "Little miss Perfect" as some of her friends called her. An excellent student and a great pathologist. But she was lonely and her heart arched for someone special. She dreamed about that perfect guy who would rock her world and never make it the same again. And yes, she could admit now that she had read way too much _Twilight_ back then.

But then William Sherlock Scott Holmes had walked into the morgue one day and he was like all her fantasies coming together! His classy suits and coat and his dark curly hair which made his skin look a bit like porcine. His hard shaped face with the high cheekbones and his gorgeous eyes which looked like they were made of ice but burned so intensely when they looked at her that it made all her defenses melt away... And then he had started to talk and the words that came out of his mouth together with that unique voice of his... Yes, the way he talked, the way he used his mind, the way he removed his leather gloves. She fell and she fell so hard! Right from the start, she was _stuck_!

Molly brushed another messy curl from Sherlock's face. She couldn't remember how many times she had imagined a scenario like this in her head. But now when it actually was real it felt like nothing in her fantasies and in truth, she didn't want it to either. Instead she felt confident and in control. Molly sighed and shook her head.

"I thought I loved you back then, from the very first moment I saw you... You with your mesmerizing voice and absolute brilliant mind. But now I know that I was only in love with the thought of someone like you. The thought that someone like you would love me back, no matter how small and insecure I was. It all feels so stupid now, now that I know what kind of man you are."

Yes, it felt really stupid to believe that someone like Sherlock Holmes could love little Molly Hooper. But she had turned this inside out for months now and she had finally come to one conclusion: It was not her, it was _him_. It had always been him and in fact, she was just very unlucky that she met him that day at the morgue and not someone else. She instantly felt guilty for thinking that it might have been better if they had never met, but sometimes it felt like the undisputed truth.

"In some ways it's good that you're not in London anymore." Molly continued into the darkness. "I hate to see John and Mrs Hudson so sad but for me, it has been a chance to move on. I want to meet someone who will love me just as I am, and maybe Tom is that one. I don't want to chase a fantasy anymore, Sherlock, and I don't want to think about you anymore. I just want to be happy."

Molly blinked and two tears that had been welling up in her eyes escaped. Sherlock had been absolutely right before. Of course she looked sad "when it was him". It was a sign of the frustration, all the emotional trauma that unrequited love was. She wiped the tears away quickly from her cheeks.

"You don't have to flirt with me to get things you want. I will always be there and help you with whatever you need because you are my friend. You really are, Sherlock and as my friend, I will always love you."

Molly sighed again and closed her eyes. After a moment of hesitation and consideration, she opened them again as she placed her hand on his and through this touch she felt like she was giving back "mouse Molly" to him. She on the other hand was letting her go, once and for all.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **To be continued...**

Okay, this was very heartfelt to write but it was very fun to explore Molly and her thoughts. I read Molly's blog a lot as research for this chapter. In the end I think that she is just a good person. Everything she does for Sherlock, she does out of love, but that doesn't always mean romantic love. I liked the thought that Molly was in to _Twilight_ back in 2007-2008. It would really suit her personality and if she was that, it is quite obvious why she fancied Sherlock right from the start. To her, he really was the definition of perfection! It was funny to include the "I Believe in Sherlock Holmes"-movement. It all fits so well into the illusion that this is happening for real.

Many of the reactions of the characters to the Fall, I have taken from my other stories, _The morning the world collapsed_. It focuses on Lestrade during the hours after the Fall. Give it a go!

On this story I have now one more chapter to go and possibly one surprise epilouge. What did you think of this chapter? Rate and Review!


	5. Chapter 5

**NEW A/N...**

Hi, followers of this story and other readers! I'm sorry for the totally unacceptable delay for new chapters in this story but after I post chapter 5, I got stuck. The ending didn't feel completely right and a bit unfit with the Canon. The comments agreed with me so I have changed the ending of this chapter and I think that it fits much better with the Canon now. I kind of slaughtered Molly at the end in the last version and that wasn't fair of me because I love her! Now I'm feeling much more ready to write that epilouge I talked about a long time ago! Enjoy!

 **Old A/N**

This is the last chapter before the epilouge and I hope you have enjoyed this story so far. I'm sorry about the delay for this chapter. I have been busy with work. No obvious spoilers in this chapter. Enjoy!

P.S Check out my one shot, _A Study in Waltz_. I'm really excited about that story!

* * *

 **Chapter 5: The game is never over?**

The sun shone through the windows and woke Molly in the morning. Its bright shine hurt her eyes and for a moment she had to cover them. Her head arched terrible from both the sunlight and probably the lack of sleep. She had no idea when she had gone to sleep or when she had moved from the chair and laid down on the other side of the bed. Had she been sleepwalking? Well, most unlikely. She had a history of talking in her sleep but never sleepwalking. She remembered clearly that she had continued to look at the sleeping Sherlock after she had kissed him on his forehead. After this she only had very faint memories before she must have fallen asleep and there, somehow Sherlock had nestled himself back into her dreams again. She had seen his face. He had stared into her eyes and she had looked into his and drowned. It was just like her dreams two years ago! That damn man! How did he always manage to get into her head? Sherlock, Sherlock... Sherlock!

Molly realised that the bed was empty except for herself. Where was he?! In a second, she was out of it and inside the bathroom. Nothing there. She called his name even though it felt ridiculous in such a small room. No answer. A 100% sure deduction: Sherlock Holmes was not here anymore...

Molly threw herself on the bed again and slammed her hands down on her face. She hadn't even been awake to say goodbye. One part of her wondered if ALL had been just a dream. It couldn't have been, right? Or? The troubled woman sighed and reached for her phone on the nightstand. Three new text messengers. All from Tom.

 **Good morning! Feeling any better? I thought we could go to Ellis Island today if you're feeling well. Would you like that? / xx Tom**

 **Call me when you're awake.**

 **Awake yet, beautiful?**

Molly's mood brightened while reading the small words and she smiled. Yes, she would like to go to Ellis Island and be with Tom. Tom who liked her, just as she was. Just as Molly Hooper. She suddenly felt strong and confident again. Yes, it could definitely be him. The one that she would spend the rest of her life with. Not a fantasy, a real person and real love. In that moment, the phone buzzed. This time the text was from an unknown number.

 **Under the bed.  
Bring it to my brother. He will contact you about the specifics. Keep it close.  
SH**

Molly stared at the screen with confused eyes and her mouth fell slightly open. Then, in a quick movement, her head turned to look at the side of the bed. She hastily crawled to the bedside and turned her head upside down to look at the floor below. What she found was a bundle of fabric and she bought it up into the bed. It was obvious to Molly in that same moment that the fabric was a scarf in the shade of dark blue. It was wrapped up tightly and tied together with a big knot. She recognized that scarf. Of course she did.

She untied the knot that held the bundle together and unwrap the soft cotton fabric in her hands. Out of it and on to the bed, fell a flash drive. Molly picked up the small item and scrutinized it between her fingers. What secrets could it hold? Probably something that could change the world as we knew it. That had always been the forte of the Holmes brothers. The last three words in the text had remarked maybe something even more alarming. Sherlock's life probably depended on it.

Molly put the flash drive inside the inner pocket of her jacket. She had already started to plan what she would say to Tom if she had to travel home on Mycroft's request, when her phone received another text from the same number.  
 **  
Thank you, Molly Hooper.**

It was only four words and to any other person they would have been a matter of course. But to Molly Hooper, who understood how much those words meant, they were something extraordinary. She moved her gaze to the scarf. After some hesitation she reached for it and scrutinised the fabric close to her face. Even from a distance she could feel how it smelled in a particular mixture of cologne and tobacco. Just like him.

Molly sighed deeply and shook her head as she rested it against her hands, still holding the dark fabric. John had once said that Sherlock believed that love was a destructive force and she couldn't blame him. It clouded your judgement, crushed you under its weight and made you vulnerable to all kinds of difficulties. And it stuck with you, even if you wanted it to or not, Molly thought. She looked at the scarf again and realised that it would be harder to erase her feelings than she just had thought. But she would do it. She would get over him. She had to, if she was going to start to live again.

* * *

 **To be concluded...**

I do think that she never will be over him completely because those feelings stuck with you, especially if it's unrequited love. I know because I still get nervous when I see my high school crush, even though I have been in a relationship now for three years.

So what do you think about this new ending? Tell me in the comment section! Now it's just the epilouge left! Also, what did you think about the christmas special? For me, the first hour was brilliant and the last half hour kind of messy, even though I got so sentimental seeing modern Sherlock again. I realised how much I have missed him so it was an emotional reunion! How was it for you?


End file.
